“My wife and I are from Lisbon,” he said, chewing
a piece of bread. “We first heard about Fatima
probably back in June, in the Lisbon newspaper.
Then in August, the young shepherds were put in
prison because they wouldn’t say that this whole
thing had been a hoax, a lie to draw attention to
themselves. That’s when my wife and I decided to
come to Fatima the next time the Lady appeared to
the shepherds – September 13. You see, the Blessed
Virgin told the children she would appear at the
Cova on the thirteenth of every month. Last month,”
he smiled, “Flowers rained down from Heaven. It was
the most beautiful sight. Many people have been
cured, you know,” he said, nodding importantly.
“My brother was very ill,” his wife added. “The
doctors had bled him countless times, but there was
nothing to be done. He came here July 13, and he
was cured. Rest assured, he will be here today.”
On and on, the couple rattled off the countless
miracles that had already occurred at Fatima. As
they talked, I grew thoughtful. All those people
were cured here, I thought. Unless they were all a
hoax, and were just making all those miracles up,
this whole thing must really be authentic. Maybe,
I mean. I must not allow myself to go crazy here, I
told myself sharply. However, I could feel my whole
demeanor, my whole attitude toward the apparitions
at Fatima, changing the more I thought about the
matter. So in spite of myself, I actually felt excited as
we walked – along with everyone else in Portugal, it
seemed – to the Cova later that morning.
Due to the dense crowds on the streets and the
rain, we arrived at the Cova a little late – the three
children were already there, kneeling on the wet
ground, seemingly oblivious of the coldness of the
wet ground and the noise of the crowds. Oh, the
crowds were making noise alright! Everyone spoke
of a strange phenomenon which had apparently
just occurred. Someone near me was speaking
Portuguese, so I could not fully understand what he
said. It was something queer about smoke and the
shepherds.
Before the person had finished relaying the story of
the smoke, I heard shouts of, “Look at the sun!”
What an odd demand, I thought. One would lose
one’s eyesight completely if one looked at the sun.
Besides, the sun was not out; it was still pouring rain.
However, my curiosity got the better of me when
the rain suddenly stopped and the sky grew bright. I
looked up to see the sun falling out of the sky toward
earth! I screamed, along with everyone else.
“It’s the end of the world!” someone near me cried.
“The end of the world!” the phrase echoed
throughout the crowd.
People around me began to fall prostrate on the
ground, begging God to forgive their sins. I glanced
at
Madre
, who was calmly kneeling on the wet
ground praying her Rosary, as usual. Why was she
not worried about the end of the world? To tell the
truth, I was exceedingly concerned. I mean, what
about all of my sins, especially making fun of
Madre
and the shepherds for believing that the Blessed
Mother had appeared here at Fatima? I did not recall
Padre being this desperate at his death; however,
he had been a very pious man, and probably had
nothing to worry about in the afterlife.
I looked around frantically. Perhaps there was a
priest somewhere in this crowd who could absolve
me of my sins. As my eyes roved around, they met
one of the shepherd’s eyes. As she looked at me, I
felt a great calm rush over me. Stunned, I stumbled
to my knees on the wet ground, which, upon further
examination, was no longer wet. I pulled my shawl
tighter around my shoulders, and realized that it,
too, was perfectly dry. In fact, there was no evidence
whatsoever of the rain that had been falling in
sheets just minutes ago. There was not even a cloud
in the sky. The sun continued to spin around and
Rezar | Chantal LaFortune | Grade 10
26
BAYLEY BULLETIN, MAR-MAY 2016
